


Falcon, Falcon, What Do You See?

by scatteringmyashes



Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff, M/M, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 08:31:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6947839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatteringmyashes/pseuds/scatteringmyashes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam’s best friend, Steve, just landed a job designing a mural for the zoo’s entrance and, like all good friends, Sam goes with him to get a free tour of the various creatures and exhibits on display. The two meet James, their snarky guide, and T’Challa, the new resident expert on big cats, specifically the prized black panthers the zoo has recently acquired.</p><p>Sam’s never been a huge lover of cats, but they start growing on him, not in the least because he finds T’Challa’s endless amounts of information on them fascinating. Also they’re very attractive. The cats, not T’Challa… Though Sam cannot deny that T’Challa is easy on the eyes.</p><p>Yeah, Sam can definitely start liking cats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falcon, Falcon, What Do You See?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing Sam/T'Challa fic, even if I have a ton of short drabbles and head canons on tumblr, so bear with me.
> 
> Anyways, the title is a throwaway to a children's book -- kudos to anyone who knows what I'm talking about. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr [here!](http://thepoetofjustice.tumblr.com/)

It wasn’t like Sam disliked the zoo. He loved going to see the animals, watching them from a distance as they did things like sleep or eat or sleep some more. He loved the fact that the crowds were always impossible to navigate and that there were always screaming children. He loved the lack of control he had over his environment and the way the sun beating down on him reminded him of the desert he had tried so hard to forget. Yeah, he loved the zoo. It was his second favorite place right after helicopters and just above hospitals. 

But Steve was Sam’s best friend and he had promised they’d mostly be walking behind all the exhibits, away from the crowds, so there went all of Sam’s excuses. So that was how Sam Wilson, best friend of one Steve Rogers, found himself driving to the zoo on a Saturday morning. They had taken Steve’s car because Sam refused to put the miles on his, but that meant there were two rather well-sized men in a small Volkswagen bug and leg space was limited.

“I need room for these thighs,” Sam argued as he moved his seat back and put his feet on the dash, a habit he knew Steve abhorred. The blonde rolled his eyes and muttered something about how Sam was going to get himself killed in a crash one day. “You’re the one driving,” Sam pointed out.

Steve shut up and put on Marvin Gaye. Sam instantly forgave him.

“This is it, huh?” Sam asked when they got to the zoo in question. The parking lot was already full and it wasn’t even noon yet. He knew it was only so busy because they came on a weekend but he couldn’t help but groan as they drove past row after row full of minivans, trucks, and a few hummers. “Seriously, who owns a hummer in the city?” He wondered.

“Technically this is outside the city,” Steve pointed out. “And get your feet off the dash. What if someone sees?” Sam knew that this was probably stressing his friend out just as much and, like the best friend he was, made Steve’s life a little easier. He put his feet down, pulled his seat forward, and started looking for a parking spot.

It only took another ten minutes and after that they were sitting in the car, the radio playing softly in the background. A family walked by, the mother pushing a stroller with a crying baby while the older siblings ran ahead, screaming. Sam and Steve exchanged a look. Neither of them were big fans of crowds, loud noises, or any uncontrollable situation. That being said, Sam knew Steve disliked not working and fulfilling the stereotypical ‘starving artist’ role that he was so often boxed in even more. 

Being a vet sucked. Being a vet who kept doing art for charities and turning down jobs that ‘offended his morals’ was worse. At least Sam was able to use his degree for something, even if half the time he felt completely out of his depth. Seriously, who’s brilliant idea was it for the guy with PTSD to be a therapist for the other people with PTSD? 

Oh yeah, the guy with PTSD. 

_“I bet it rains down in Africa,”_ the radio crooned. Sam swallowed and forced himself to smile. He slapped Steve on the back and unbuckled his seatbelt. 

“Come on, big guy. Let’s go see some cats.” With that, Sam got out of the car and started walking to the entrance.

The wall at the front gate was painted over with white in anticipation of Steve’s mural, but it used to have a bunch of penguins and a polar bear, Sam remembered. It had been done for some kind of holiday celebration they did every year. They would give the different animals gifts and set up a variety of light shows for crowds to see at night. The Stark Foundation, of course, donated a couple million to help bring kids from hospitals to the zoo for a private show.

Being a multi-billionaire had its perks, after all.

Sam glanced around the entrance, his sunglasses tinting everything gray. He vaguely knew his parents had brought him to the zoo at some point, and that he had loved the aviary, but he hadn’t been to there in years. Not even before he was deployed; it just wasn’t the kind of place he enjoyed then and he definitely didn’t enjoy it now. 

That aside, he and Steve both managed to get through the crowd and to the ticket booth without too much of a problem. There, Steve showed the attendant on duty the email that he had gotten about meeting with the director and getting a private tour. 

“Oh, uh, let me ask my boss,” the kid replied, calling over a stern looking woman. “This is, uh, Steve Rogers and his friend? Apparently he’s here about the mural?” Sam bit his tongue as he did his best to look casual, leaning against the rope barrier that kept the lines in some kind of order. Fortunately most people bought their passes online nowadays, but there was still a good number of people hanging around the ticket booth. 

“Ah, yes,” the woman, whose nametag read ‘Maria,’ said. “Give them express tickets,” she ordered the attendant. Maria smiled at Steve. “I’d shake your hand but,” she motioned at the glass window, “Still, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve seen some of your work down at the Boy’s and Girl’s club. Absolutely fantastic.” Steve, who was a bashful man at best whenever anyone complimented his word, ducked his head and blushed profusely. 

“It’s nothing,” he claimed. Sam rolled his eyes and nudged his friend. They were working on Steve’s ability to accept compliments that, as an actual gentleman from the 1940s with the body of a Greek god, he got quite often. “Thanks. This is my friend, Sam. He’s, uh, he’s here to help with inspiration.”

“I’m the brains of this operation,” Sam explained, though it was a complete lie. Steve hadn’t wanted to go to the zoo alone and, bring a great person who was totally supportive in every aspect, Sam didn’t let him. 

Their conversation was cut off as the attendant slid the two bright red wristbands and told them that all they had to do was show the employees and they’d get to the front of almost any line. It also let them go into the exclusive exhibits though, considering they were getting a private tour, it wouldn’t have been much of a concern in the first place. 

“Your guide is waiting inside. He’s wearing the uniform and his name is James,” Maria explained. “He’ll be looking for you too.” The two thanked him and made their way inside. Sam was almost certain that he wasn’t the only one thankful that the express line had almost no one in it. 

Inside the zoo was somehow more chaotic than it was outside. Sam took a moment to adjust, blinking behind his sunglasses as his eyes swept across the crowd. It was impossible to assess for any threats, though his mind told him that it wasn’t like one of the five year olds with cotton candy was going to draw a nine millimeter and try to shoot him. At least, not here. This was safe. This was a public zoo with families and friends and the risk of being eaten by a tiger was higher than getting shot or blown up. 

At least, that’s what Sam told himself and he was a damn therapist for this kind of a thing. He could handle himself in a crowd. Hell, if Steve could managed to walk through this after only being back a year then so could Sam. 

“Do you see him anywhere?” Steve asked, reaching out to hold onto Sam’s shoulder. The blonde squeezed it and Sam wasn’t sure if it was for his reassurance or for Sam’s, but the ex-paratrooper wasn’t about to complain. 

Sam was about to say no, but then his eyes landed on a tall man in the green and khaki zoo uniform. “There he is,” Sam pointed out, making his way over. James saw them as soon as they started towards him and he gave the two of them an easy smile. Sam resisted the urge to examine James’ eyes closer; there was something in them that the man was trying to hide and this was Sam’s day off. He wasn’t supposed to analyze strangers when he wasn’t working and definitely not without their consent.

“Hello, I’m James. You must be Steve and you are…?” 

“Sam Wilson, friend of the artist.” James nodded and didn’t wince when either Steve or Sam shook his hand. Sam liked to say that he had good control over how much strength he put into things, what was proper for civilians versus everyone else, but he knew Steve had trouble controlling himself sometimes. “So you’re the man who’ll be showing us around?” Sam asked.

James nodded and motioned for them to follow him, speaking as they went over to a wood fence with a locked door. There was a sign reading ‘employees only’ hanging over it, but James pulled out a keycard and swiped them in. As soon as they stepped behind the fence, the noise was cut in half. Sam felt his heart slow down and resisted the urge to check his pulse. He didn’t need to know the number, only that it was high even for him. 

Steve’s look of relief was a bit more obvious and James gave them both a small smile. “The fence helps keep the noise down for our sake and the animals’ well being. Constant stimulation and observation stresses them out.” Sam held back a smart comment, realizing that this was probably not the time or place to be as sarcastic as he usually was. 

“The zoo is split into six parts,” James continued, walking along the path without hesitation. There were no signs but Sam assumed he knew what he was doing and followed along. Steve had adopted the work mentality, one that was apparent by the way he was focusing on James and hanging onto every word he said. 

Well, Steve was focusing on that and the way James’ uniform clung to him. His gloves even added to his appearance, a contrasting black that drew the eye but also fit perfectly. Sam glanced at Steve, at oblivious James, who was explaining something about biomes and temperature control, and grinned. Being the best of friends, Sam kept his teasing to a minimum, just elbowing Steve in the side and waggling his eyebrows.

Steve rolled his eyes and kept walking. Sam mentally reminded himself to laugh at the blush that erupted over Steve’s face later. 

“You’ll get to look at the panthers later, since the zoo wants the mural to focus on them, but it couldn’t hurt to see some of the other animals. This way is the primates. We have two orangutans, five chimpanzees, and about a dozen gorillas.” James gave them an apologetic shrug as he opened another door. “I don’t specialize in the monkeys.” 

“What do you specialize in?” Sam asked, partially because he knew Steve wanted to know but wouldn’t ask and partially because he was curious too. James grinned and, well, duh.

“Wolves.” James motioned for them to follow him. “Come on, it’s almost feeding time for the gorillas and you have not lived until you see a zookeeper getting fruit thrown at him by a bunch of hormonal monkeys.” 

They saw all of the primates, though no food fights ensued, rushed past the zebras, giraffes, and elephants, lingered for a few minutes by the meerkats because they were adorable and, _yes Steve, full grown men can definitely coo over them,_ before making their way to the wolves. First, though, they took a shortcut through the bugs and Sam might have fought in a war for three years of his life but there was still something creepy and unnatural about a spider the size of his face.

“Hey, Peter,” James called out to a kid who was taking the aforementioned spider out of a cage and placing it in a smaller tank. “That’s Peter Parker, he’s a grad student at Columbia looking to replicate spider silk on a mass level. Or something.” James shrugged and, making sure that Peter couldn’t hear them, added, “No one is all too clear on the details, but he’s on some kind of grant that means the zoo gets money and he brings doughnuts on Sundays so.” 

Sam eyed the spider and was entirely unashamed to admit that, yes, he walked a bit quicker to get out of there. Steve followed behind, the bastard, taking his sweet time. They both had grown up in the city but while that had established a healthy distaste of creepy crawlies, Steve was immune to bugs. _Probably because he had to kill cockroaches the size of his thick skull all the time as a kid or something,_ Sam reasoned. 

Then again, Steve had no sense of self-preservation so it was entirely reasonable to assume that he also lacked the proper reactions to bugs. 

“Steve, I know you have some weird obsession with the little guys, but that is not little nor is it human and some of us want to see cool things like wolves and bears.” Sam looked at his broken watch and then at Steve. “Oh, look at the time. It’s time for us to get out of here and look at things less likely to show up in my bathroom sink.” He punctuated his words by turning on his heel and walking out the door James was standing by. 

James, who was smirking. Sam raised an eyebrow and James held up his hands in the universal sign of surrender. “I’m not saying anything,” the brunette pointed out. “Though I will say you have good taste.” It would have been an innocent remark except for the way James glanced at Steve while he said it. 

Sam snorted, not altogether surprised, and kept walking.

The wolves were pretty cool, he had to admit, even if he thought Steve was laying it on thick with the way he was suddenly interested in the migration patterns of some animals he had never cared about before in his life. Still, the honest curiosity rolled off of Steve in waves and Sam resigned himself to watching the wolves rest in the midday sun for a few minutes while Steve did his best to hopelessly flirt with the tour guide.

Steve being Steve, his idea of flirting was talking about mutual interests and hoping that the other person asked him out for coffee or whatnot at some point. It was almost pathetic, but it was so absolutely Steve that Sam couldn’t bring himself to interfere. 

Besides, it gave him time to snapchat Nat and tell her all about the tour. It had been a good three hours and, minus a few minutes watching the meerkats, Sam hadn’t felt too anxious or otherwise panicked at all. Which was rather impressive, considering the density of the crowd had only grown as the day rolled on. Private, behind the scenes access was nice. If this was how he got to see the zoo, Sam could imagine himself driving up more often.

As in, once a year instead of never. 

James’ walkie-talkie went off and the guide motioned for Steve to wait for a moment. Sam walked over and, as any best friend would, asked if he had gotten James’ number yet. Steve blushed and shook his head, making some excuse about how James was working and it wasn’t professional and _he probably doesn’t like me and is just being nice._ Sam sighed. 

“That was T’Challa,” James explained as he came back over. “He’s the head of the big cats program and is our resident expert on the panthers. According to him, they just finished off their lunch and are settling down so we can go over and eat our lunch. He’d love to talk to you about them too, just to give you a better idea about the cats and the exhibit.” Steve nodded, work mentality back. 

“Lead the way.” 

 

 

 

Sam wasn’t sure what he had expected, but a large hole in the ground was not it. Well, calling it a hole was ignoring the fact that it was surrounded by industrial strength glass, was full of various plants and toys for the cats, and even had a small pond and waterfall in case they wanted a swim. There was a tall railing that surrounded the top of the pit, broken by where the observation decks started, but the entire area was quiet. 

According to James, the guests would usually filter in at the ground level and look down from the sides, but people could also go up onto observation decks if they wanted to get a better view. There was a solid railing around each deck and Sam could tell that even a small child would be hard-pressed to fall on accident. The zoo was also finishing up the underground portion but it wouldn’t be done for another few weeks, which was about when Steve was supposed to unveil his mural.

“Of course, until then the zoo would be happy for you both to come back at any time. Just stop by Maria’s office before you leave. She’ll be able to help you with that.” James glanced around, clearly looking for someone. “He said he would be here…” Sam took the break in conversation to walk over to the edge and peer down for himself. 

Even in the afternoon sunlight, the bottom of the pit was difficult to see. Sam thought he could make out a few moving shapes, but he wasn’t certain. The trees and bushes meant it was hard to be certain of anything, really, except that the panthers either weren’t there at all or were really damn good at hiding. For Sam’s own pride, he hoped that they hadn’t been put into the main exhibit yet. 

“Can you see them?” A deep voice asked, jolting Sam out of his thoughts. He pretended that he wasn’t surprised when he turned and saw the man who must be T’Challa... except he could easily be some kind of celebrity who also was there seeing the cats ahead of time because the man was _attractive._

Tall, for one, taller than Sam and probably the same height as Steve, but not built with the inhuman proportions the blonde had. No, T’Challa was lean the same way a sprinter was, packed with muscle but distributed evenly. And his eyes, god, Sam wasn’t exactly huge on eyes but there was a bright intelligence and wit in T’Challa’s brown eyes that Sam wanted to see in its full glory. 

He became fully aware that he was standing there in an old button-up and jeans that had seen better days, his shoes past the well worn stage and into the ratty category. Meanwhile T’Challa was standing there in a black henley, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of black jeans that matched in shade to his shirt. His boots alone, a deep brown leather, probably cost more than everything Sam was wearing put together. 

Yeah, Sam was definitely feeling underdressed. 

“No,” Sam replied, crossing his arms and leaning back against the railing. He hoped he appeared calm, cool even, and that it wasn’t obvious that his palms were sweating. “Are you T’Challa?” And, because the world loved Sam just as much as he loved it, the other man nodded and extended a hand to shake.

T’Challa’s grip was firm and his hands rough, like he worked with them often, and not sweat soaked at all like Sam’s. “Yes. Are you Steve Rogers?” _Of course._ Sam shook his head and pointed to where Steve was looking at something in the pit. “Ah.” T’Challa sounded almost disappointed but Sam assumed that was just because he now had to find a polite way to ignore Sam for the rest of the day. “Then you are…?” 

“Sam Wilson. Nice to meet you.” Sam felt his eyes rest on the necklace that T’Challa was wearing. It was simple, a fang hanging on a piece of black leather, with a band of gold around the base of the tooth. “Is that from a panther?” He asked. T’Challa nodded and seemed about to say more when James noticed he was there.

The tour guide came over and grinned at T’Challa. James extended a fist and T’Challa just stared at it. Not disheartened at all, James shrugged. “One day, one day.” With that, he turned and motioned at where Steve was still looking at the panthers, because of course he could see them and Sam couldn’t. 

“Meet Steve. Steve!” Hearing his name, Steve turned and started walking over. “He’s the artist who’ll be doing the mural,” James explained, as if T’Challa didn’t know. “Steve, this is T’Challa. He’s our resident expert on all the big cats and it’s thanks to his petitioning that we got the panthers in the first place. So thank him.” It was clear that James thought highly of T’Challa and Steve just liked people in general, so the smile on the blonde’s face was genuine. 

“Pleasure to meet you, T’Challa.” Steve shook his hand and motioned at Sam. “You’ve met Sam I take it?” T’Challa nodded. The pleasantries aside, Steve went into work mode. “So I was looking at the cats and I did a bit of research, but I wanted to talk to you…” 

Sam silently took a step away, sensing that his part of the conversation was over. Besides, he wanted to try to see the cats on his own. If Steve Rogers, the man with about three corrective surgeries on his eyes alone, could manage to see a few in the murky depths of the pit, then he, Sam Wilson, with better than perfect vision, could do the same. 

So that was why, about thirty minutes later, T’Challa was able to come over and tap him on the shoulder. This time Sam had heard him coming and only glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah?” He asked, a bit annoyed. He had thought he spotted one for a couple of minutes, only to figure out it was a rock. Now he was staring intently at a bush which he was convinced was sheltering a panther.

“We are going to get lunch and I volunteered to fetch you.” T’Challa had an accent that Sam couldn’t quite place and, just like eyes, Sam had never particularly felt attractions to foreign accents but he was prepared to make an exception for the man in front of him. Behind. Next to. Whatever. “Are you still having difficulty seeing them?” 

Sam debated lying but he had the feeling that T’Challa would find out and it would just result in embarrassment for everyone involved. So he nodded and pointed to the bush he was watching. “I’m certain that there is a panther there,” he added, as if to prove something. T’Challa hummed and stood next to him, their shoulders touching. 

“That would be rather impressive, seeing as there are only two panthers and both of them are by the pond,” T’Challa replied after a moment. Sam frowned as he looked at the body of water. Nothing. “You cannot see?” Sam shook his head. “Let me help.” T’Challa moved once more so he was standing behind Sam, his entire body warm to the touch. “May I touch you?” He asked, epitome of polite. 

It took every ounce of self-control in Sam’s body to not say something he’d regret. “Sure,” he said with a shrug. As if this wasn’t making his heart beat out of control and his throat tighten. _Dammit, man, pull yourself together. It’s just an attractive guy putting his hands on you. Nothing to freak out about._

In a manner so innocent that it was impossible to think of there being secondary motives, T’Challa put his hands on either side of Sam’s head and turned him until he was, almost without warning, looking at a panther licking its paws. He had seen pictures and videos online and, well, he couldn’t help but think that the real thing was less interesting. At least he could actually see them then.

“The black panther, a creature known to live only in Wakanda. They’re often confused with jaguars or leopards, but an expert can tell the difference.” There was a certainty in T’Challa’s voice that made it clear that he was, indeed, an expert. “They can leap up to twenty feet and they are capable of killing any prey they find,” T’Challa murmured, taking his hands off of Sam’s head. Sam instantly missed the feeling of his hands, but his voice was almost as nice.

T’Challa wasn’t done though. “They are rarely in groups as they are solitary creatures, needing no assistance. They hunt alone, they live alone. To see one is rare but there is nothing more profound. Of all the big cats, panthers are the most elegant. Even the graceful lynx or the powerful tiger cannot challenge them.” This caused the scientist to smile. “At least, that is my belief.” 

Sam didn’t have any great passion for animals in general, let alone cats, yet he felt floored by the knowledge T’Challa had. No, not the facts. Anyone with access to the internet and Wikipedia could find out the different characteristics of panthers. But the way T’Challa said it, the way each word left his mouth and formed sentences, barely even hinted at the passion that obviously ran in T’Challa’s blood. 

Everyone, Sam had long since discovered, had a passion. Steve’s was social justice. Natasha loved ballet. Sam… well, Sam wasn’t sure what his, but he could tell that T’Challa’s was panthers. He was a world class scientist who worked on conservation efforts and public education about cats and spoke out against the fur trade. Steve had shared all of this, and more, about T’Challa on the drive to the zoo. 

As if T’Challa needed anything else to make him a perfect person. Sam was certain he would have fallen for the man even if Steve hadn’t accidentally wingmanned for him. T’Challa was, in many ways, like the panthers he idolized so much. He was beautiful in appearance and powerful with his words. There was no questioning the authority he possessed. In another lifetime, Sam could see T’Challa as a king. The difference was that T’Challa was even better in person than anything Sam imagined he could find online.

And so, because Sam was great with words and even better at impressing people, he turned to face T’Challa. The other man looked at him with those deep brown eyes and Sam was pretty sure that if love at first sight existed, then love at second sight did too because he was prepared to fight all the poachers or hunters or whoever in the world in order to get even a chance to win T’Challa’s affections. 

“So you like cats,” Sam remarked, reverting back to his deadpan sarcasm as a defense mechanism. T’Challa was surprised to the point where he took a physical step back, eyes widening. He recovered quickly though, not giving Sam anytime to mentally curse himself out for being such an idiot. 

“I do. I have since I was a boy. Why?” T’Challa asked, eyes narrowing just a sliver. Sam, because he could not shut up, shrugged.

“Oh, well, they’re very cool but I’ve always liked birds myself.” _Shut up, shut up, shut up._ “Flying, y’know, that’s pretty much the coolest thing ever.” Sam, thankfully, saw his way out of the pit he was digging himself. And his pit would not be nearly as nice as the ones T’Challa’s panthers were currently in. “I’ve been flying before. Not with real wings but close enough.” 

Sam could tell that he had gained T’Challa’s interest with that, because the man went as far as to open his mouth when Steve came out of nowhere and interrupted. “Hey, James was just worried you had fallen in and gotten eaten or something,” the blonde called, inability to read the mood showing its ugly face once again. “Glad that you’re in one piece.” 

“Yeah, we’re safe. Haven’t fallen into the panther play pen yet,” Sam replied, thinking of ways to get back at Steve for being the most considerate cockblocker ever. He walked over to his friend, pointedly not looking back at T’Challa. “Just got caught up talking about cats.” If he had turned around, he would have seen a slight scowl marred by simple bemusement on T’Challa’s face.

But he didn’t, so Sam had no idea what T’Challa thought about his comments. He just hoped that he hadn’t ruined his chances.

Lunch, fortunately, was not awkward in the least. James was able to keep up a steady stream of conversation with all of them and T’Challa seemed focused on making sure Steve encompassed the elegance of the panthers as well as showed their more relatable side. He looked like Sam had just offended his mother when Sam suggested that Steve bring out the humanity in the animals.

“They are fascinating because they are not human,” T’Challa argued with a scowl on his face, though he looked much less intimidating or regal considering he was drinking out of a cup with a lion’s head as the lid. Sam, who of course had picked the eagle cup because there were no other birds, shrugged.

“I’m just saying, it might help the audience relate a bit better.” Steve fidgeted in his seat and eventually James changed topics, but beside that it went well. Sam was convinced that he had fully blown any chance of showing off, though, and resigned to adding T’Challa to the list of ‘unobtainable but painfully attractive people.’ 

They finished eating their meals and Sam, because he had absolutely no shame, convinced Steve to hold onto the cups. “They’re collectables,” Sam pointed out, “And you can bring them back for free refills.” Sam already knew that Steve was going to be a zoo regular, if the looks he kept shooting James were any indication. 

Also, Steve had picked a cup with a wolf on the lid instead of picking the monkey one. Sam knew that there was no other animal Steve liked more than chimpanzees. He even had a sock monkey on his bed, something from his childhood, though he hid it whenever anyone who wasn’t Sam came over. But nope, Steve had decided on getting a wolf cup and now he was going to have it forever.

At least if Sam had anything to do with it. That was what best friends did, after all: reminded their friends of the embarrassing decisions made in order to impress cute guys at zoos. Sam definitely hadn’t considered getting the lion cup. Nope. Not at all.

“It was great talking to you,” Steve told T’Challa. The scientist nodded and handed Steve a business card. Sam was not jealous. 

“If you wish to talk more, it would be a pleasure.” He then turned to Sam and a small smile. “And if you would like to tell me more about what it is like to fly, then I would welcome that.” He gave Sam the same card Steve had received. “I need to check on one of the lions, but I hope the rest of the tour goes well.” With that, he left. 

“So there are still other animals to look at, since you’re here,” James began, but Sam tuned him out, content on relying on Steve to update him. 

Sam definitely was not screaming inside. He definitely wasn’t ecstatic that he had gotten T’Challa’s number. He definitely wasn’t going to brag about this on the way back to the city. And he definitely wasn’t going to call the next day.

And he didn’t, because as soon as he got home he looked around his studio apartment with its single bedroom, miniscule kitchen, unreliable air conditioning, and thought about T’Challa. A scientist, vet, general big cat expert who seemed to have his life in control and didn’t suffer from PTSD that made walking down the street a difficulty on the best of days and impossible on the worst. 

Sam looked at his home, his clothes, his life, and he realized there was no chance that T’Challa would ever actually be interested. Not once he really got to meet Sam. And Sam told himself that he would throw the card away, put it out of mind, and continue living his normal life. 

He put it on his whiteboard and found himself staring at it every day on his way out the door. 

Finally, three days later, he crumbled and dialed the number.

“T’Challa,” the voice on the other end answered. It was deep, accented, and already a familiar sound. Sam swallowed and ran back through what he had rehearsed. He was just going to see if T’Challa wanted to grab dinner sometime, nothing too fancy but not just a burger joint. Something definitely akin to a date, but also could be construed as two friends in case Sam was even more off than he thought. 

“Hey, cat man. It’s Sam Wilson. I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner and see a movie this Friday. Six o’clock.” _Shit._ That was not what Sam had planned and he hoped that his heart wasn’t beating as loud as it felt, because otherwise T’Challa could definitely hear and it was Steve who had the shitty heart corrected, not Sam. 

There was a moment of terrible silence and Sam was convinced that T’Challa was going to hang up. Then, tentatively, as if he wasn’t sure he had heard correctly:

“Cat man?” Sam could have jumped for joy. Instead he just laughed.

“Yeah, well, you like cats.” He leaned against his wall, the support convincing him that he wasn’t actually weak in the knees. “So what do you say? Is it a date?” Sam mentally prepared himself for the inevitable ‘no’ and the ‘please don’t call me again’ that would follow soon after. Even before deployment, asking people out was an anxiety-ridden process. Now Sam was ready to punch a wall and scream or curl up under three blankets and sleep for the rest of the day.

“Well, _bird man,_ I would love to. Where should we meet?” 

 

 

 

Sam looked out of his windshield and let out a heavy sigh. He wasn’t sure why he had thought this was a good idea, but he was there and he didn’t want to have driven this whole way for nothing. Going to the zoo was an hour long adventure and he did not just put all of those miles on his car for no reason. That was the only reason he wasn’t pulling out of the parking lot that very moment. 

It was a Wednesday morning, Sam’s day off, and he thought he would go do something with the all-year zoo pass that Maria had given him and Steve. The reason was so they could come back for inspiration at any point and Sam hadn’t bothered to admit that he really had nothing to do with the creation of the mural. He wasn’t about to turn down something free, even if that something was for a place he disliked.

Besides, it was starting to grow on him. The animals were interesting and it was much less busy on a Wednesday.

And ok, Sam’s upcoming date with T’Challa had a bit of influence over Sam’s decision to use his day off to visit. He wanted to see some attractive animals and one attractive human, sue him. Sam was still surprised that T’Challa had said yes; surely he had something more important to do Friday nights than go out on a date with a practical stranger. 

Maybe that was why Sam was walking through the parking lot, through the gates of the zoo, and through all of the pens until he found himself staring at where the entrance to the black panther exhibit would be. Because he wanted some kind of confirmation that this wasn’t all a dream. Or because he wanted to hear, from the man himself, that this wasn’t a joke. T’Challa didn’t seem like that kind of a person, but Sam had been lied to before. 

But he hadn’t really thought the whole plan through. He had T’Challa’s number, but would it come off as too desperate if he called and just happened to be at the zoo? Would it work if Sam just walked around the place, lingering at the cat exhibits, hoping to run into T’Challa? And of course Sam wouldn’t be able to get into the locked black panther area. It wasn’t open to the public and this time Sam was very much ‘the public.’

He held back a groan and hit his head against the sign that announced, rather boldly, that the panthers would be open for visitors within two months. But because the world occasionally smiled down on Sam, a somewhat familiar face appeared in the corners of his eyes. 

“James?” Sam turned and yes, there was Steve’s crush, looking the same as he had before. “Didn’t think you’d be here.” A pause. “Seeing as this is a closed area and you’re probably a busy man. Not because you wouldn’t be at the place where you work,” Sam corrected. He wanted to say that he was usually much better with words, but he was a bit distracted by the chance of seeing T’Challa so his mind wasn’t working properly. Only that seemed a bit, well, desperate. 

And as Steve’s wingman, Sam owed it to him to be the coolest person possible. James, at least, took it all in stride and smiled at Sam. 

“I’m actually on my way to pick up a group at the tiger pen. T’Challa is there giving a talk about conservation efforts in Asia if you want to come?” James had a shit-eating grin on his face, obviously guessing why Sam was there, and Sam couldn’t even bring himself to care. He just returned the smile and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“Lead the way, Jamie.” It was a childish, petty move and it was entirely worth the huff and eyeroll that came out of James. 

The tiger exhibit was home to three different cats; two were the typical orange-and-black striped one, but the zoo also had a rare white tiger. Again it was thanks to T’Challa’s ability to talk countries and foundations into giving the zoo permission to host the animals in question. In total, T’Challa was more or less the reason the zoo had ten different species of big cats, not including the recent addition of the panthers. Even though he had only been working there for the last five years, T’Challa had over a decade of experience elsewhere that gave him credibility.

The man had been a Rhodes scholar and that was after doing his undergraduate at Oxford as an exchange student from Wakanda. He had landed himself on Forbes’ thirty under thirty list at twenty four after publishing no less than five papers on big cats and conservation efforts in Africa and Asia. T’Challa was one of the world’s premier scientists and activists and he had gotten number seventy three on _People Magazine’s_ ‘One Hundred Hottest Men Alive’ list in 2013. Which, if anyone had asked Sam, was completely wrong. T’Challa deserved number one.

So Sam might have gotten on his computer after actually asking T’Challa out and done some research. He was a curious guy and the information was all online; completely and utterly fair game. And if he had given himself a small anxiety attack because _what the hell what in the world is this man even,_ well, no one had to know.

He was, indeed, talking to a small group of people under a shady picnic area. There were no powerpoint slides or visual aids, just T’Challa standing there and talking. Not a single person looked bored.

“These magnificent creatures are not just part of the environments that they inhabit, but they also are part of the culture and vibrancy that give these different regions something to boast of,” T’Challa told a crowd of mostly senior citizens. There were a few college students and one or two families with young kids, but the zoo seemed most popular with the elderly on Wednesdays. Not that Sam was complaining.

Everything was quieter and thus Sam was less likely to get a panic attack or flashback so yeah, he didn’t mind.

James winked at Sam as they parted ways and Sam, ever the good person and best wingman ever, flipped James off. The returning grin was definitely one of the better reactions Sam expected. 

“White tigers are especially prized by poachers for their fur. Much like other tigers, such as the bengal, their fur is regularly sold on the black market. The difference is that while an orange and black pelt may be worth thousands, white coloration is so rare that it can cost millions.” Sam would have denied it for days, but someone T’Challa made talking about poaching and killing animals attractive. 

In a weird, science sort of way.

Today T’Challa was wearing a slate gray button-up, the sleeves rolled just past his elbows, tucked into a pair of tight black slacks that were perfectly tailored. Sam felt the urge to find the person who did T’Challa’s alterations and thank them for their contributions to humankind. Instead he sat down towards the back and paid attention to what T’Challa was saying. It was interesting and if Sam also got to oggle an attractive man, well, that was just a bonus.

“What brings you back here?” T’Challa asked as Sam approached him after the talk. There were about half a dozen flyers and pamphlets on a table in front of him, all about tigers and conservation efforts and things like that. Sam wondered if it would be too much if he took all of them, so he settled on just leaning on the table.

“A man can’t visit the zoo by himself?” Sam asked, realizing an instant later that he might have sounded too defensive. 

T’Challa raised an eyebrow and starting cleaning the table, stacking all the papers. Sam reached out to grab one but T’Challa shook his head. “If you have questions, you can always ask me. That is one reason I gave you and Steve my phone number,” he explained. 

“I hope that isn’t the only reason,” Sam replied immediately. T’Challa’s lips twitched upwards but he didn’t fully smile. Sam considered that a success anyway. “Are you busy? I wanted to get another look at the panthers, try to spot them myself this time.” T’Challa glanced at his watch and Sam resigned himself to a polite decline, some explanation that made perfect sense, and being left to wander around the zoo alone. The trip had been a shot in the dark anyway, it wasn’t like Sam had much of a game plan.

“I can bring you to the panthers, but I have a meeting with a few scientists from Wakanda at three. And I am afraid you cannot be left alone in the exhibit.” It took Sam a moment to realize that T’Challa was saying yes. 

Sam grinned and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Well then, lead the way.” 

When they got to the black panthers, T’Challa let them in with a swipe of his key. Somehow it was even more quiet and isolated than before. Their presence went unnoticed to the cats down below; they didn’t so much as twitch. Or, if they did, Sam couldn’t see them. Sam blamed the person who had decided to add so many plants to the pit. Obviously if they had been worrying about visibility, there wouldn’t have been so many ferns.

T’Challa chuckled at the idea and gently grasped Sam’s elbow, pulling him a bit to the left. “There is one underneath that tree,” the scientist explained, pointing with his free hand. Sam leaned a bit closer to T’Challa, all in the name of seeing the panther of course. When he still couldn’t make out its lithe form, he scowled. 

“Man, do you have super-sight or is this just some kind of sixth sense you get after spending so much time with them?” Sam teased. T’Challa stiffened and Sam worried that he had crossed a line, but all the Wakandan did was give him a small smile. 

“So if we were to go to the aviary, you could find and identify every bird?” T’Challa asked, a hint of humor in his voice ruining his otherwise perfect deadpan. Sam rolled his eyes and huffed, not at all offended but doing his best to hide how happy he was that T’Challa didn’t think he was too sarcastic. Or, at the very least, was playing along.

Of course, Sam couldn’t just admit that. “I said I liked birds once. Doesn’t mean I got my doctorate in ornithology.” T’Challa smiled at that. Sam considered that a victory. “I still can’t see it,” he admitted. “Everything I think is a panther ends up being a shadow, and every shadow I see seems to be hiding one.” 

T’Challa shrugged. “That is their nature. Panthers do not let themselves be seen, not in the wild and not in captivity. They must be found. It takes time.” At least he didn’t laugh, which Sam took as some consolation. “Why do you prefer birds?” It was such an honest question that it caught Sam off-guard, expecting there to be some hidden sass. 

“I’ve always liked the idea of being able to fly,” Sam admitted, leaning forward against the railing. It was nice and sunny out, but it was still early enough in the year that there was a crisp chill to the air. He was glad he had brought his jacket again, though T’Challa looked perfectly fine in what he was wearing.

Comfortable, that is. T’Challa looked comfortable. Though if anyone did ask Sam, T’Challa seemed rather _fine._

“And you were able to fly?” T’Challa prompted. Sam realized that he had fallen silent and blinked rapidly, hoping that he hadn’t been too obvious thinking about the man standing behind him.

“Yeah,” Sam replied, fingers running over the watch on his wrist, “I was.” He cleared his throat and turned to face the other man. “Airman Samuel Wilson at your service.” He gave T’Challa what he hoped was a confident or even cocky smile. “Pararescue, if you want to get specific.” There was a flash of recognition in T’Challa’s eyes and the scientist nodded slowly.

“You had an air of a warrior around you, when I first saw you.” T’Challa paused for a moment, thinking, but continued before Sam could say anything or try to change the subject. 

He didn’t tend to talk about his time in the service with those who hadn’t also served, but he also didn’t shy away from it. Sam had done his time, for better or for worse, and that was always going to be part of him. It was for the best that T’Challa knew, up front, what he was getting involved in.

“Would it be amiss if I asked if you wanted to see the eagles? I’m told they inspire quite a sense of patriotism.” There was a twinkle in T’Challa’s eyes and Sam realized that he was trying to lighten the mood. As forced as it was, Sam couldn’t help but laugh and feel a weight slip off of his own shoulders. 

There was definitely something to be said about someone who didin’t meet him, find out about his time in the air force, and immediately grill him about his service record or try to thank him. Seeing as T’Challa wasn’t even a U.S. citizen, it would have been even more awkward of a situation.

Sam adjusted his jacket. “Personally, I have always had more of an affinity for falcons. The zoo has a few of those, right?” He asked, as if he hadn’t spent an hour the previous night trying to plan the best path to walk past every cat pen within the shortest amount of time. He might have gotten a bit sidetracked looking at the aviary. 

There were some cool birds and if he was going to the zoo he was going to see some animals, not just one human. 

T’Challa nodded. “Of course. If we ask nicely, I’m sure that Barton will even let us feed them a few snacks.” The gleam returned to his eyes. “That is, if you are able to see any of them.”

Sam let out an indignant noise. He started defending his honor and eyesight even as they left the panthers and walked to towards the aviary. T’Challa played the part of the bemused guide, pointing out things he thought might be of interest and leading them through the quieter parts of the zoo. There might have been a small smile on his face the whole time. Sam wasn’t staring. Much.

 

 

 

“I’m telling you, man, he’s the one,” Steve repeated. Sam could imagine him waving his arms in the air as he spoke, pacing back and forth the way he did whenever he got worked up about something. Usually it was civil rights related, but Steve tended to get emotional about anything. Once Sam had listened to a three hour rant about the ending of Up. That had been a particularly trying day.

But Sam was the definition of a good bro and he didn’t hang up or even put the phone down. Not once.

“We went to the museum and he knew all kinds of facts about the dinosaur exhibit and he laughed at my jokes, even the ones comparing Trump to a lizard.” Steve wasn’t known for his comedic abilities, but somehow his political satires were legitimately funny. At least, Sam thought so. He wasn’t about to tell them to his more conservative family members though. “I think Bucky’s the one, Sam. I really do.” Steve let out a sigh that meant that he was in far, far too deep. 

Sam didn’t have it in him to point that out. After all, he was the one rummaging around his closet trying to decide whether he should go with the olive green shirt or the maroon one. His date wasn’t for another two hours, and Sam might not agree with everything Boy Scouts stood by, but he could get behind being prepared. Especially when it came to trying to impress world renowned scientists from Wakanda. Sam could definitely use some preparation. 

Then something Steve said registered in Sam’s head. He only laughed a little. “Bucky? What happened to James?” 

It was all too easy to imagine the blush on Steve’s face. “He, uh, told me to call him Bucky. It’s a childhood nickname or something. Anyways,” he continued, artfully changing the subject, “What about you and T’Challa? What is this about you going to the zoo Wednesday? I haven’t even been back yet. You’re making me look bad.” They both knew that was far from the truth.

Sam snorted. “I wanted to see the birds.” It wasn’t a lie, it was just not the whole truth. 

“Bucky said he saw you lingering around the panther exhibit.” Sam should have seen that coming. He made a mental note to give Bucky shit for something next time the two saw each other. It didn’t even have to be at the zoo; if he and Steve were serious, Sam would meet up with the duo eventually. 

“Well next time you see your pal, tell him that I just have a thing for cats.” Steve chuckled and adjusted his grip on the phone. The resulting static forced Sam to pull away from his for a moment, but he took the opportunity to start going through his pants. 

Did he want to wear jeans? Was that too casual? They were only seeing a movie and grabbing something to eat; nothing in that screamed formal wear. But what if T’Challa showed up in slacks and a button-up? He certainly seemed like the kind of person not to own a single piece of casual attire. Would it make Sam look cheap or uncivilized if he was underdressed compared to T’Challa but not the rest of the room? Hell, did this entire premise make Sam look cheap or uncivilized? They hadn’t even agreed on a movie. Sam had asked but all T’Challa had said was that he wouldn’t see any Westerns.

 _At least he has good taste,_ Sam thought as he stared at his wardrobe. He could have sworn that he owned more than three pairs of jeans, but apparently he was wrong. None of them had visible holes, which he counted as a victory.

“And then the monster grew another head so Bucky had to use a butter knife to slit its throat,” Steve drawled, sounding as if he was describing the weather. Sam felt himself blush, realizing that he had accidentally neglected his friend.

“Sorry, sorry. I just got caught up in my thoughts.” Instantly Steve fell silent. After a moment, he asked if everything was ok. “Oh, yeah, it wasn’t like that. Just trying to decide what to wear.” Upon the reassurance that this wasn’t anything to be worried about, Steve went back to his casual, more relaxed self.

“Why?” He asked, voice light. “Does someone have somewhere to be tonight?” 

“Yes, actually. This someone is seeing another someone at a place where, if things go well, other things will happen,” Sam shot back. He could imagine Steve rolling his eyes. 

“Is this other someone named T’Challa by any chance?” Sam didn’t dignify that with a response. He figured that black jeans would go well with his red shirt and set that aside to change into. “You know, if you want, I could ask Bucky about T’Challa. He said they talk sometimes,” Steve offered. 

It was all sorts of ironic that the man who hadn’t had a relationship since he was newly enlisted was asking if Sam wanted help. Then again, Sam hadn’t exactly been rolling in offers before or after. 

“Thanks, but no thanks. I want to do this by myself.” Sam scratched at his goatee. “If you need any help with your buddy, just ask. Anything at all, man.” There was silence on the other end and Sam wondered if Steve had accidentally ended the call. But no, there was the sound of breathing coming from the receiver. 

“I… Are you saying this as Sam from the VA?” Steve asked, hesitant. Sam shook his head, remembering belatedly that Steve couldn’t see.

“I’m saying this as Sam your best friend.” He glanced at his watch out of habit before looking at the clock on his phone. “So do you have any ideas about the mural or have you been drawing your Bucky’s face over and over again for the past few days?” Steve squawked and the conversation moved on.

Sam really shouldn’t have been surprised when, two hours later, he waved at T’Challa and saw that the man had a small smile on his face.

“So I heard you have a thing for cats?” He asked, the epitome of innocent for about half a second. Then he adopted the best shit eating grin Sam had seen in years. “Please, tell me more about this love for felines.” 

“Well,” Sam began, summoning up enough courage to wink at T’Challa, “In my experience some of them are more interesting than others. But they’ve been growing on me.” 

T’Challa chuckled and gave Sam a warm smile. In it was the possibility, slim as it was, that maybe Sam had a chance. “Well then, Sam, if you would let me, I’d love to foster that affection. As long as you helped me understand birds more. I’m told they can be quite fascinating.” 

_Yeah,_ Sam thought, _I have a chance._


End file.
